The Unknown
by Uozumi
Summary: AU of What Is and Never Should Be. Adam gets a wish in more ways than one. no pairings.


**Fandom** _Supernatural_  
**Character(s)/Pairing(s)**Adam, Dean, Sam; no pairings intended  
**Genre** AU/Family/Fantasy/Supernatural  
**Rating** PG-13  
**Word Count** 2887  
**Disclaimer** Supernatural c. Kripke, WB, CW  
**Summary** AU What Is and Never Should Be. Adam gets a wish in more ways than one.  
**Warning(s)** spoilers for season two episode twenty, season four episode nineteen, blood  
**Notes** The idea to create an alternate universe version of "What is and Never Should Be" has been rolling around in my head for a few months now. I hope I did the idea justice.

_**The Unknown**_

Adam knew soon after meeting John that his father had another family. Asides from the infrequent visiting, there was a picture in John's wallet that Adam saw every time John opened it anywhere. It looked like it had been taken in the early or mid-eighties since it was fading and starting to look purplish around the edges. There was John sitting on the hood of a car beside a boy who looked maybe seven or eight with a younger boy in his lap. They were all dressed as if they were going to go camping or fishing. The boys in the picture had to be about ten or fifteen years older than Adam, and clearly from a first wife, probably the same woman John was married to even now. Adam knew at least one of the boys was Dean since when his father's cell rang Adam could see the caller ID display light up with the name Dean more often than any other name. When that happened, John's mouth would tense in the corners and his eyes would narrow before the phone quickly disappeared.

Adam had not seen John since his fifteenth birthday and he was seventeen now. Maybe John had realized that he was trying in such a piss-poor manner he just gave up without bothering to notify Adam or his mother about it. Adam was not sure what prompted John's silence, but he found himself wanting to know some things as he stared at that same old faded photograph on the mantle. It was not the mantle in the house he lived in since he was six years old. It also was not like his grandmother's house in Joliet, Illinois where he had been sent to spend Winter break. His mom promised she would come by for Christmas, but Adam was not going to hold his breath. Either way, the house he now stood in was gorgeous with four bedrooms and white walls he admired in a magazine hidden under his pillow back in Windom, Minnesota. The only reason he was awake right now was that the sun started to shine into the bedroom he woke up in and at the house in Windom, his window faced south and the sun never shined in directly.

Adam's eyes took in the rest of the mantle. It was adorned with pictures. A wedding photo sat in the center and from there photos branched off of Adam and the two boys of John's. Adam was not sure of the validity of any of the pictures he had never seen before, but he did know that the wedding photo in the center of everything should not exist. In the photo, his mother beamed in a humble off-blue gown, her hair done up with a crown of flowers that matched a rather small bouquet in her hands. To her left was his father who wore what looked like a second-hand suit. Standing to the other side of Adam's mother was a boy of about seven or eight and to the other side of his father was a middle school aged boy. They looked similar to the two boys in the fading photograph. Adam looked over his shoulder, but like when he woke up, no one seemed to be house. He carefully took the wedding photo down and disconnected the frame from its backing. His mother always wrote dates on the backs of all photographs. There was no photo in the Milligan household without a date. Sure enough in black ballpoint pen, the date March 10, 1990 was written in her careful printing. Adam fixed the frame and set the picture back where it belonged.

The doorbell rang before Adam could examine any of the other pictures. He hesitated as though the bell might bring someone from upstairs to take care of the front door, but there was silence. A knock soon followed and he thought he heard his name muffled through the front door. Taking a deep breath, Adam walked through the family room, down a short hallway and into the foyer. Standing at the door was a man who looked like the oldest of John's sons. He smiled welcomingly and Adam figured he might as well let the guy into the house. Even if Adam did not know if this was Dean or not, he supposed it would be weird to keep him out.

"Thought you forgot for a moment there." The man entered the house and stomped the snow from his boots. "Ready to go?"

"Uh…" Adam was not sure where they were going. His stomach rumbled. "I haven't had breakfast yet." Maybe he could stall and figure some things out.

"Well make it fast, I promised Sam we'd meet him up there, and you know how he gets." The man followed Adam into the kitchen.

"Right." Adam got together the fastest breakfast he knew how to make. While the toast got dark in the toaster, he scrambled some eggs together. He considered his options, then ventured, "So, Dean, where are we going again?" Adam slopped the scrambled eggs onto his toast, salted it, and capped it with another piece of toast.

The name seemed to be right because Dean did not go about correcting Adam. "It's the yearly ice fishing trip." He shifted uncomfortably and adjusted his jacket. "You know, we decided to go even though Dad…well, you know."

Adam had no clue. Instead of telling Dean this, he finished his sandwich and put the skillet in the sink to soak. It seemed whatever this dream was; it was quick to answer his questions. "Let me get my coat and boots and I'll be ready." Adam decided that since snakes were not coming out of Dean's mouth, no one was on fire, and he was actually dressed properly for ice fishing, he might as well cooperate for now. Knowing his tendency towards nightmares, it could only get out of hand from here so he might as well enjoy the seemingly mundane for now.

Once on the road, Adam watched them pass by his grandmother's house and soon they were off on the highway as though they were going up to Minnesota. Dean got a text message when they were on the state border from Sam saying he would meet them up at the lake. It was only five minute later when Adam glanced over at Dean and stared. There was blood trickling down the man's mouth, dripping from his chin.

"Ah…D – Dean?" Adam found his voice. This was where his dream was going to turn into a nightmare. He knew it.

"Yeah?" Dean looked over at him and the blood was gone.

Adam blinked. Typically, by now there would be blood gushing from eyeballs or something. Maybe this was not a nightmare after all. "Nothing. Thought I saw a fly." Adam reached out and turned the radio on. It was a diversionary tactic he picked up from John. He was not surprised when the first station he came to was playing Black Sabbath. Adam started flipping channels until he found a modern rock station.

Dean turned it back to Black Sabbath once Adam's hand left the dial.

"Hey!" Adam went to protest but Dean shook his head.

"Driver picks the music," Dean stated. It was the same phrase John used on Adam but delivered in a teasing tone with a triumphant smirk. Adam rolled his eyes and got comfortable.

The trip from Joliet to Duluth, Minnesota lulled Adam to sleep like any other long car trip. The music in the background did not help either. Sometimes he dreamt, each dream containing a tortured, garbled voice going on about silver, lamb's blood, and Sam as though those three things could stop a monster. Sometimes Adam woke through the trip. Once such time he swore he saw Dean restrained but with a quick blink, Dean was back to driving normally. It made no sense, and convinced Adam that despite this being one big weird dream, he needed more sleep within it.

They reached a motel near the waterfront near nightfall. Adam went ice fishing once with his grandfather when he was about ten years old the winter before the man died. The motel Dean pulled up into was the place Adam and his grandfather set up as home base all those years ago. Adam followed Dean into the lobby. It was hard to believe that the place had not changed much since he had last been here. Adam shook his head. He had to remind himself it was just a dream, otherwise, it made no conceivable sense. Dean went over to check them in and Adam stopped short. Standing near the couches in the lounge part of the lobby was a very tall man with longish brown hair. His hand clutched a knife dripping blood onto the carpet.

Adam fumbled into his pocket for his cell phone. He scanned the area for any sign of dead bodies but there were none. Every pocket he checked contained no phone as though his fingers were curling in air. Adam backed up and bumped right into Dean. When he looked to Dean, Dean was bleeding from multiple places and his skin was pale and anemic.

"Hey, kid," Dean said, "you okay?"

Adam opened his mouth but no sound came out. Soon the tall man with the bloody knife was standing over him too. Adam gradually noticed his arms were up over his head and he could hear more than feel the tall man undoing his bindings.

"Hey, kid," Dean repeated as the backdrop behind him faded from the lobby to some sort of warehouse. "Can you hear me?"

"Yeah," Adam croaked. His throat hurt and his voice was slower than he wanted it to be. "I'm not a 'kid.'" His whole body ached and his arms felt more like noodles.

"We should drop him off at the hospital," the tall man said.

"No." Adam slumped against the platform he was once tied to. His mom used to work for the hospital in Joliet. It would only get back to her and he did not need her knowing about this. "I'm fine."

"Of course you are," Dean grumped. He looked like he was about to pass out, but somehow he stayed standing.

Adam considered his options, trying to make his brain feel less fuzzy. "I saw you wherever I was." Now that he could see the blood trails on Dean's chin and the silver knife in Sam's hand, he was uncertain if it had been a dream or some sort of twisted reality. "What happened?"

Dean and the tall man exchanged looks. Then the tall man looked to Adam. "You've lost a lot of blood."

"Sam's right," Dean added. "You can see a lot of crazy shit." He moved to get ready to leave. "Come on, kid, we'll drop you off at home. Let your mom deal with you."

"It's Adam." Adam tried to stand up on his own power and felt Sam grab one of his arms firmly to keep him steady. "So you know?" the question tumbled out of Adam's mouth before he knew he would say it. There was still fuzz in his brain.

"Know what?" Sam helped Adam outside of the warehouse. The cold air started Adam shivering uncontrollably.

"About me and Mom." Adam tried to use his own power to get to the car. Dean made it look easy, but Dean had a thick jacket on and boots. Adam had a sweater and sneakers. "John must have told you."

Sam's brows wrinkled and he helped Adam get in the backseat. "Uh…like what?"

Adam fumbled with his belt. He was starting to feel sleepy and he was still losing blood slowly from some wounds. "That we're related." He did not catch Dean's shoulders tensing in the passenger seat or how Sam's hand paused in turning the key in the ignition. "Brothers…you know…" Adam yawned widely and curled up against the door.

When Adam woke, he was in St Joseph's Medical Center and alone. He was hooked up to an IV drip in the bed nearest the door. The child beyond the curtain partition next to him was talking loudly to his mother about the food. Adam wished he was eighteen then maybe he would be sharing a room with some forty-year-old gallbladder patient who was out cold due to the post-surgery pain medication. He sat up slowly and carefully reached out to the foot of his bed and picked up the doctor's chart. The chart said he was suffering from anemia and dehydration. Yet, what caught Adam's attention the most was that his chart gave his name as Adam Winchester. He had never been Adam Winchester. He had not even known John's last name until he was fourteen years old.

He looked for any kind of indication of how to get in touch with whoever brought him here but there were no answers. He thought that he had dreamt the warehouse as well, but perhaps he had not. Adam placed the chart back where he found it. He bet his grandmother wondered where he was. He doubted she called the cops yet. She liked to tell him that his mom had a habit of rebelling against curfew at his age. The woman probably thought she was going to be a grandmother by the time he got home.

Adam did not know when he drifted off to sleep but a coughing fit from the kid in the other bed woke him. Adam stretched and then tilted his head toward the open door. He could not see out of it, but he could hear muffled voices.

"He is not related to us," Dean commented in a low hiss. It sounded like he might be close to the door's opening.

"He might be," Sam returned, sounding like he was standing closer to the door. "It's not like Dad was celibate." There was a long pause. "Look, you stay out here, I'll check on him. The doctors seem to think we're his only contacts."

Dean mumbled and grumbled something Adam could not hear and then Sam appeared in the room.

"How you doing?" Sam's voice was soft and a bit patronizing. Adam was surprised Sam did not use the word buddy. The tone of voice screamed for it.

"Fine." Adam's eyes narrowed. "I'm not ten you know." He pulled himself into a sitting position. "Does my grandma know I'm here?"

"Probably not," Sam's voice took on a much more normal timbre. "I don't know who she is."

"My name's Adam Milligan by the way." Adam's eyes drifted to the chart at the foot of his bed and then turned to Sam's gaze. "Mom didn't give me John's last name, and I don't want it."

Sam held Adam's gaze. He considered Adam a long moment. "I was wondering about that. How did you know about us? Because we didn't know anything about you."

Adam shifted a little. He felt well enough that he just wanted to go back to his grandmother's house and wait out the remainder of vacation. "I saw you two in whatever that was, a dream I guess." He looked away from Sam. "I also saw a picture of you two once in John's wallet." His eyes returned to Sam. "There was always a call from someone named Dean when he visited too." He frowned and shook his head. "Figures you don't know. He stopped showing up this year."

Something passed over Sam's face that Adam could not discern. He opened his mouth and then thought better of himself. "Well you know, if you need anything, I can give you my number. Dean and I have to head out soon."

Adam wanted to say no. He wanted to tell Sam where Dean could put his attitude from the hallway too. Yet, he had wished more than once in his life that he could know his brothers, that he could have some sort of family. This was his opportunity. Adam nodded. "Sure."

"You can call me about anything," Sam offered and wrote the number down on a napkin. "Girls, math problems," he handed the napkin over to Adam, "anything that seems unnatural."

Adam took the napkin. "Like what?"

"Like what just happened to you before Dean and I got to the warehouse," Sam answered. "Or anything else you can think of. If you have a problem, we can help you fix it."

Adam glanced to the door and then back to Sam. "I think I'll keep him out of it."

Sam shook his head. "Dean's just stubborn. Once he gets used to the idea, he'll come around." Sam reached out and much to Adam's chagrin ruffled the teenager's hair. "Anyway, we have to hit the road. Get better, Adam."

"I am better." Adam reached up and ran a hand through his hair to fix it. Then Sam was gone. Dean was probably gone too. Adam looked down at the phone number and folded the napkin carefully so it looked important and not like trash. He was not sure how he was going to explain this to his grandmother, but he needed someone to come bail him out of here.

With a deep breath, Adam dialed her home number.

**The End**


End file.
